The Same Dirty Blood
by lilrubydevil
Summary: Draco thinks about the term ‘mudblood’ after he had left Hogwarts and after he had failed to kill Dumbledore himself.


I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, plots, etc.

* * *

Draco thinks about the term 'mudblood' after he had left Hogwarts and after he had failed to kill Dumbledore himself.

* * *

**The Same Dirty Blood**

Written and finished: November 12, 2005

* * *

Err... this is my first attempt at a Harry Potter story... I don't think this is any good compared to all the other wonderful stories out there so if you have ideas on how I can work on this? Or maybe I should never try Harry Potter again? Any comments are appreciated, but please, no flames... :(...

* * *

Mudblood.

I wonder, how many times have I said that? How many times have I used that term? How often? How long? When did I start?

So many questions running through my head; my head started to hurt. I rubbed my temples, trying to shake the questions off, but couldn't. The word 'mudblood' kept ringing in my head, unable to stop.

My father was the one who taught me that word. He always told me to use it proudly and not to be ashamed to use it. He boasted and prided himself on being pureblood, as do I. I was proud to be pure all the way, unlike those filthy Muggle born. I never thought that they fitted in our world—they weren't meant to be.

"Keep moving, you're slowing us down," Snape hissed at me, his dark soulless eyes glancing at me. "We're near our destination; we can't afford to be stopped."

I nodded, hardly paying attention, my throat dry. I was tired and filthy; my clean robes had became dirty and muddy as soon as we started to take off by foot towards the Forbidden Forest to get away from Hogwarts after Snape killed Dumbledore, my blonde hair was no longer sleek and shiny, but rather messy. I hadn't stopped running since because Snape and the others wouldn't let me; I was tired, not to mention hungry.

I knew that if I were to open my mouth, one of them would kill me instantly. I was useless to them now; I had failed. I had set out to kill Dumbledore and I didn't. I was worth no real value to them now.

Would I end up just like my father? Alone, deserted, without any power? My father was going to die at the hands of his own master, whose orders he had failed to accomplish. Would the Dark Lord be angry at me for not fulfilling the plan? Would he toss me aside, much like the others? He was not known to be a forgiver, and I couldn't say I wasn't afraid.

My eyes darted at Snape, who was still focusing on walking quickly towards the hideout. I felt my stomach go queasy with sickness. How proud Snape must be, knowing that he was the one that managed to finish the task, after my many unsuccessful attempts. He was no doubt ready to be praised and rewards among his wildest dreams, as I am shunned to one side, wondering if I could even be forgiven.

Mudblood. I used that whenever Hermione Granger was around. It made sense to me at the time. She wasn't pure, not a real witch. She didn't belong at a magical world, yet she could do so much.

Still, when you don't have a drop of magical blood running through you veins, it doesn't matter—no one would expect much out of a Muggle born. Besides, she was so annoying that I, among others, couldn't wait until she died. Hell, even Potter and that _Weasley_ wanted her gone before. I couldn't say I'm surprised.

My heart skipped a beat and I feel a flicker of panic as I saw that we were getting closer and closer to where the Dark Lord was hiding. My head started to ache, but it was never compared to the punishment I will receive from the master of pain.

I used to call Hermione Granger a mudblood, just because she didn't have a drop of magic in her veins. But compared to her, am I not the same? I had failed because I didn't have the ability, I didn't have the strength, and I didn't have enough will to go through with it. That made me just as good as a mudblood, wouldn't it? I may be a pureblood, but yet I failed like a mudblood would have expected to have done.

I was just like a mudblood, and I was heading out to the unknown. Throughout this torturous journey, I sometimes wondered how it would feel if I wasn't chosen to do the assignment. How proud I felt when I was finally acknowledged and had a chance at greatness.

Mudblood. I, Draco Malfoy, had failed just like a mudblood would have. I wasn't any better. I might as well have been a mudblood.

* * *

-Finished/OWARI-

Like I said way up there, this is my first attempt and I get that this story might be sort of... _bad_... but I just wanted to try.

Any and all comments are appreciated. Thank you!

-lilrubydevil-


End file.
